


The Age of Heroes

by SlimyRat



Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: Gen, Humour, Poetry, Well it rhymes a bit at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 02:05:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11071788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimyRat/pseuds/SlimyRat
Summary: As the 2017 General Election draws near, who can possibly save us now?





	The Age of Heroes

In a world (booms a baritone voice) on the edge

Of disaster, destruction, trapped on a ledge

Looking down thirty storeys, caught, no way out,

Frozen with fear and crippled with doubt,

The country cries out with one voice: “Oh how

“Can we get out of this? Who will rescue us now?

“It's leaders we need, be they Caesars or Neros!

“Can it be that we live in a world without heroes?”

 

Do we call out in vain? No! 'Tis no sooner said,

Then behold, riding forth from fair Maidenhead,

Grey-haired, steely-eyed, autocratic, and high-heeled,

Firm of purpose, determined never once to yield

(Unless, the Mail and Express say that she should,

After all, to be stubborn does nobody good).

She raises her flag, then lowers it again

(The political weather is hinting at rain).

She speaks her own mind, and is told what that should be

By coarse backbench fanatics, whose dream is to see

The country stand piss-proud

Alone and e'er unbowed,

Who wish they possessed an empire once more

And dream of re-fighting the Second World War,

And would sacrifice all to fulfil their intention,

Sure that 'evil' is just a damned foreign invention.

And the noble PM proudly follows her orders,

And makes preparations to lock down the borders.

The time has come for this land to be remade

In her image, and she swears she won't be swayed,

But then, “Oh, _sway,_ ” the usual voices plead,

“We'll lose money if you don't, and really there's no need.”

Like a Spartan stood firm in Thermopylae Pass

She courageously pulls off a rapid _volte face_ ,

And at the first sight of the feeblest attack

Displays to the world her strong and stable back.

 

So much may be said for the devil we know,

But who dares to oppose such a terrible foe?

Opposition? The term is the merest base flattery,

Applied a man who so struggles to matter, he

Leads from the front of his grumbling troops

And marches them forth in circles and loops,

'Till, worn and depressed,

The troops sit at rest,

And, watching the leader with eyes full of hate, sees

Him camp on an old battlefield of the eighties.

Surrounded by relics of fights long since lost

He raises his banner: “No matter the cost,”

He declares to the empty sky, “Here I stand!”

Then sits down to wait, his musket in hand.

Far off in the distance echo the sounds

Of battles hard fought, artillery pounds

The earth with explosions, planes shriek overhead,

The landscape is littered with dying and dead,

But contemporary wars,

A contemporary cause,

Cannot make the Labour Achilles bestir,

He drinks his tea, dreaming of fights he'd prefer.

If the miners would just go on strike, he'd be there,

These new-fangled issues are so much hot air!

The battles rage on. He sips from his cup.

And the loyal Opposition never shows up.

 

Two such titanic champions, the world has never seen

Display their lilliputian might for country and for Queen,

Alas, I've but one vote to give, one may think, with a sigh.

One vote, true, but _contempt_ I have in infinite supply.


End file.
